Phantasma
by 1879
Summary: A dream-like eerie encounter between two persons who have a lot of complicated feelings :


_Rating: Mature  
__Archive Warning: No Warnings Apply  
__Additional Tags: Dom/Sub, Hair-pulling, Biting, Possessive Behaviour, Angst_

It was a deep stirring, coming from so far away and so alien it was difficult to pinpoint its origin, its purpose, but it was definitely becoming more and more present, demanding, requiring an acknowledgement, claiming his full attention and clinging to that tenuous, intangible convergence of thought as if its existence depended on it.

In some sense, it actually did.

His mind was all over the place, out of focus, but that pull within his hollow self and coming from without was something that felt alien yet completely familiar, and he was drawn to it. There was nothing to tickle his senses other than that sensation, and nothing to mark the passage of time either. After something that could perhaps be defined as a _while_ , he realized that there was… Warmth? Tension? Something was turning into substance, becoming slightly more real than the surrounding blur; a lure that made him conscious of boundaries, of where he ended and other things began.

A hand was stroking him. Caressing in turn what he could now define as his cock and his thighs and his balls, never touching him in the way that would please him the most. Frustrations and desires mingled together, the mixture of emotions finally merging themselves into one truth.

He was Anders. And those hands were not his.

His could not move. They were bound behind his back and it was impossible to tell how or by what, making the task of fighting against this force an impossible one. He was immobilized except for a twitch here and there. He could not tell up from down, but somehow he must have been standing, as there were arms attached to these hands, this undeniable strength around him, squeezing his abdomen and his arms, the skin brushing against his body almost creating static. Like his spell. Tempest, on a small scale. How was this even possible?

He wanted to plead for the hands to stop, or to continue further and do what he knew they should be doing, but not keep going this way. This was stalling. This was playing. This was pleasantly unpleasant. Anders tried to speak up, but his words only transformed into moans and groans. His jaw was stuck, he could not open his mouth to speak up, to make his wishes known. There were other ways though, and he cocked his head to the side, trying to see who was behind him. But as a hand went to his cheek he reflexively leaned into it, forgetting to look. Then a finger to his lips, a teasing caress, and other fingers to his nipple, playing with the nub of flesh and squeezing it just perfectly enough to make the sensation hover between pain and ecstasy.

The torture went on for a moment, distorting Anders's reality back into a miasma of bright spots and colours. He let himself bathe in these imagined waves, acclimating himself to the strange dynamics of a world where things were moving too slowly ( or was it his heart that was beating too fast?), lazy things like these unknown hands and fingers he wanted to lick and suck, if only to reach out and let his impatience in some way be known, just a little. Another moan would do, maybe. A complaint of some sort. A frown too.

_You want something, do you? Say it. Say what you want, mage._

That voice, its rich tones reverberating within like hundreds of echoes that turned into a vibrant hum. Anders _knew_that song. Reflexively, he tried to pull his own hands apart from one another but could not as they were bound together. The restless gesture made his frustrations expand beyond himself and burst forth, a surge of energy that somehow gave him enough strength to condense all of them into a single word.

_Fenris!_

Anders was seemingly able to speak but did not utter another word. Instead he let his lips lock onto that nearby thumb, and its faint taste of lyrium was enough to send this lustful tingling all the way down to his groin, the epicenter of a disturbance that kept growing and subsiding in turn. It shook the very foundations of who and what he was or had been before reality turned into a lush mist, and like dust thrown up in the air, things were no longer coherent, there was no pattern to old his thoughts and ideas together, and all of them tangled into this haze. There were also odd things almost visible at the corner of his eye, but all he could focus on was trying to get Fenris to speak again, to do something. Anything.

His greedy tongue finally made the elf twitch, the tip gliding on those vibrant lyrium lines, his teeth gently nibbling those fingers that ever so slightly tried to go deeper into his mouth.

_Yes. I know._

It was more a purr than a declaration and it made Anders want to turn around, to face him. Fenris. It was not quite right, but it was what he wanted, what he needed. It was…

Dizzy. The fingers pulled out, painting saliva on his cheek. Anders was short of breath, fighting urges spinning upon themselves, heartbeat pounding the rhythm of this luscious madness of the senses. This was a moment where Justice would usually say something. Show up and seep his anger into him and through his skin, urging him to declare the injustice of this act.

_Stop._

_Stop what, mage? You have no control._

Both hands pounced on this opportunity to make a point, reaching for his neck, nails scratching his stubble and his throat, causing him to swallow involuntarily.

_Stop this game. Get… Get on with it._

A chuckle. One that turned into that provocative purr again.

_I find you quite daring, demanding things in this manner._

What was wrong this time? Anders had honestly expected to be called an abomination, and the missing epithet at the end of the sentence fastened his attention to the other things missing in this very moment. Such as his temper. His urge to retort.

Not that it mattered. They had had something before, once. Differences had been put aside, or rather the plaintive wails of incongruities had been conveniently ignored.

Both had been drunk. Anders more than Fenris, actually. They had tacitly agreed never to speak of it, denying the existence of this short moment in time where an angry mage had made a stubborn ex-slave climax with the magic of his mouth alone. It had felt odd afterwards, not the same eeriness he was experiencing now, but odd nonetheless. Anders had not expected anything to come off that night except perhaps more taunts, more insults, more scowls, more brooding. But not this. Not…

_Fenris. This is…_

Yet he willingly submitted because it seemed right. No lost pride over his submission, no warning bells, no anger, no Justice, no unfairness. Simply irritations. Dissatisfaction. Pleasure. Contact. The loop was not complete, and it had to be. His bound hands meant it had to be by Fenris. But where was this need coming from?

Anders swallowed again, the motion of his throat caught in the elf's tenacious grip.

_Get your fingers somewhere else. Down._

_Ah! How am I going to feel that soft neck of yours then?_

The question was light, teasing. Anders tried to fight it, tried to turn around and face Fenris, his body jerking from the effort to discard all the mockery and the taunts about his vulnerability. He only wanted to turn around and stare him down. One simple thing, one lone need that Fenris could so easily deny him, trained warrior as he was; a living weapon of lightning reflexes and the strength of two. And he did, stopping Anders's attempt with ease and shoving him forwards with enough force to make him fall down. The elf let himself be dragged along and landed on the mage's back, one hand pushing the blond head and cheek while the other held on to that knot his hands were making.

He should be hurting now, yet he did not. The dominance was simply there, encompassing everything his senses were able to make of this peculiar moment.

It cost Anders a lot to say it, but he did, because it seemed worth it.

_Please?_

Fenris bent forward, until Anders could feel his breath against his ear.

_Much better._

The warm words fell into his mind and were sealed in by a wet bite and a sucking sound on his lobe, turning his skin into goosebumps. Anders hissed, the sharp intake of air arching his lower body upward to relieve some of the pressure crushed between his abdomen and the hard ground.

_This is getting in the way._

In one swift motion, the warrior lifted himself up and slapped Anders's wrists, freeing lifeless arms that fell on each side of his body, only to lie down again and rub himself against the powerless mage. One arm went around Anders's neck, locking it in the nook of his elbow, the hard muscles against his throat and heartbeat just one more tool to state his ascendance.

_Cling to me now, and perhaps…_

There was no need to ask. No need to give the order. It was what had to be done, the next logical step in a place where logic no longer belonged. It was simply one more thing to disregard, one more thing to not take into account. Not here, not…

Anders found the willpower to move, hands reaching for that strong arm to dig his fingers into the flesh, not to move it away but to make it his own, an anchor amidst the everchanging surreal illusions and truths belonging to this moment alone. Fenris's growl almost made him chuckle, and he seized the moment the elf reflexively loosened his grip to sink his teeth around a tense muscle.

_Yes…_

That hiss, that haunting voice, the sparks of lyrium branding his back with their exotic patterns. The hand now grabbing his disheveled hair and fiercely tilting his head to the side, stretching the muscles of his neck, exposing them for what Anders knew was to come while his mouth and fingers still leeched the salty flesh and its lyrium markings and their distinctively arousing energy.

The answer to his bait came with a surprise though. Fenris bit him, as expected, but the elf's hard cock rubbing against him was most certainly not what Anders had thought would be part of the reward. The thought alone was difficult to handle, and the added physical contact turned his struggle into a moan that climbed its way up and escaped against his will, mingling with the hum of the elf's own purrs and grunts.

This discordant tune. This strange beat. He knew them now. This…

This was the Fade.

Anders should have felt the stretch, the burn, the pressure, but it was not like it should be. It was raw feelings, a silent gasp, a deafening pulse that entered his body and started pounding, and then that blinding glow enveloping him, the source of all this power tied to his neck, circling back through his fingers and feeding upon itself. When Fenris came within him, when his entire body jerked and hardened and he clutched his mage, he was _real_ . Not a demon, not a spirit, not a figment of his imagination. This was _him_ , and this was supposed to be the end of this dream, because Anders _knew_.

Still, he was imprisoned, filled, and there was a bated breath caressing his shoulder, a sweaty temple nestling against the back of his neck.

_Release me._

No answer. It felt good, nonetheless. Fenris was present , for all that he chose to remain silent. Anders was panting, still clinging to the elf, hoping for something more; a push, a stroke, another struggle, another caress, a slap, a conclusion , anything. He closed his eyes and small tears went down his flushed cheeks, carrying some of his lust away with them. Yet relief and freedom could only come in one form, and this was not it.

_I can't leave… Like this. I can't… Please._

_You want something from me, mage?_

Anders nodded, burying his face against the olive skin and its white markings, hiding his hopes because part of him wished he would stay in this powerful, physical embrace just a little more. Before they would leave and return to…

_Turn around._

He complied but kept his eyes closed, certain that the elf would read his mind if he ever opened them. A silent stillness installed itself between the two souls, one that made Anders grow harder with each moment. He was definitely reaching out for something, physical contact, a bond of some sort.

_The mage is not so wordy here. Perhaps. Perhaps you have earned this._

Fenris slid his hands down, scratching Anders's thighs with his fingernails, casting a spell of his own that made the blond man buck up and moan. He was no longer able to even attempt to hide his need; not that it would not have mattered. Fenris had to do something now, and it was his desperate plea to make it end.

_A kiss before we part, then._

A sigh and a relief, but how long could a farewell last? How long until he would be free? It started with wet lips tentatively sucking the tip of his cock, evolving into languid strokes of a tongue against the length while hands massaged his stomach, his hips, and then there was that humming sound again, a soft murmur tickling him. Those lyrium markings too, glowing so white Anders could feel the light through his closed eyelids until the urge was too strong and he had to open them, and there they were. Staring into his soul. Those electrifying green eyes under a frown, and then he felt the smirk around him, and his chin went up as the tension built and drove him to the edge and…

Darkness. Had he screamed out loud or was it his mind playing tricks? He felt sweat trickling down his temples. His eyes were open but his shrunk pupils only perceived the black of the night. He could feel it though. Anders felt his erection rubbing against the fabric of his smalls, and it was incredibly annoying, insulting even, to wake up like this. He tried to take deep breaths, to slow down his heartbeat and wipe the sweat off his forehead, making as little noise as possible to avoid waking up his companions sleeping nearby. Since none of them moved, maybe he had just dreamt that scream too.

The disturbing thought brought him back to this vision, the one that had been a little too real to be _just_a dream. His hand almost reached down into his pants, but it stopped midway when a faint light caught his attention.

Fenris was glowing. Barely, but his markings were pulsating. A subsided version of —

On impulse Anders turned away to make the vision disappear. Did proximity have anything to do with this? What had happened? Why was he so hard still and what were those urges? He knew people could travel together to the Fade and be conscious while across the Veil, but this was not it. There had been no ritual. No insane amount of lyrium to perform the ceremony and no demons enticing him.

The suddenly oppressive atmosphere made him crave fresh air, to escape the insanity that lingered about, ready to pull him back into its tight embrace. The mage sneaked out of the tent, leaving Varric, Hawke and _him_to sleep the remainder of the night, his having been cut short by what, exactly? Sex? A fantasy?

Anders laid his back against a large rocky outcrop, making sure he was far enough not to be heard. He then looked up in the starry skies, taking a deep breath of the cold Sundermount air as he gently put his hands on his groin, unsure of what to do next. Should he sort this thing out _before_ , or _after_?

A curse escaped into the night, and a hand sneaked its way into his pants. To the Void with this. And that damn elf.

"What are you up to, mage, sneaking out like a thief?"

The tone made him cringe and he pulled his hand out, hoping his robes and the darkness would hide the obvious bulge between his legs.

"Can't a man take a leak without being accused of a crime?" he snapped back.

"You had your back to that rock," Fenris retorted, obviously amused.

Anders was boiling now, biting his lower lip in frustration, knowing if he said anything else it would just be swept away with something smarter or more devious, because he could not focus, not with that haunting memory of those damn lips around his hard cock. It had felt so real, and it angered him.

"Leave me alone," he finally mumbled, turning his back to Fenris. One hand dug into a sharp rocky edge, clutching it as if it were his only means to discard everything else.

"A dream then, I suppose," Fenris's deep voice dragged him back to that strange moment and taunted him. It was as if he knew exactly how to drive him crazy. Just like every other time they had been pulled into these 'adventures' by Hawke and had to work together. It never ended on a positive note. "Was it scary? Was it filled with Templars dragging the poor apostate to the Gallows? Did the abomination have a close encounter with a demon ?"

"Stop it!" Anders raged as he lunged forward, ready to tear the warrior apart with his bare hands. Fenris seemed to have expected it, stepping out of his reach before shoving him back against the hard rock, fingers squeezing his throat into a lock that would turn deadly if Anders made one more move.

"Why the bold move, mage?"

Anders sealed his lips, glaring at Fenris, still hoping he would not notice. Maker knew he had acted like a fool already, and he had absolutely no idea how to get out of this one now. Maybe the elf would drop this matter if he remained silent long enough.

"Was… Was I in that dream of yours?" The elf finally asked, a scowl darkening his features, a twitch ever-so-slightly tightening that grip on the mage's soft neck.

Anders scoffed. Not the best reaction he could have had, but it came out before he could think of a clever reply. Not that the fingers would let him speak anyways. Just like… the fingers he had longingly and happily sucked on not that long ago.

An awkward silence followed, and Fenris finally let go, keeping his eyes on Anders as the mage rubbed his neck to relieve the pain.

"Why are you asking?" The blond man uttered after a moment.

Another silence. This was definitely getting strange, stranger than the Fade if such a thing were even possible.

"What did you do to me?" There was a menacing growl there, and Anders would have stepped back if he did not already have his back against that large rock. Fenris was back in his space now, and grabbed his wrist. "Answer me!"

"Nothing! I did nothing. What the… I was bound, I could barely move! Why do you think I did something to you it — "

"Bound?"

Fenris's look made Anders's face turn a deep red. He felt the warmth creep up his neck and he coughed to hide his discomfort at having revealed one detail too many.

"It was my dream. I don't owe you anything! Unhand me now!"

"Answer me!"

"I already did!" Anders tried to pull his hand away from the elf's grip but it would not budge. Fenris was way, way too strong and he had been anticipating it. "Why are you so bloody persistent about this?"

Fenris looked down, his white hair falling over his eyes, hiding his expression. So much for not being obvious. Anders was undeniably curious now, but the clutching of his arm made him grow angrier by the second to the point where he considered using magic to free himself from that idiot elf.

"Danarius." The name was dropped like a hammer on red hot metal, immediately flattening the entire space around them. "I think he used to…"

The anger brought forth by the mere mention of this name made Anders squirm from the renewed, involuntary squeeze on his forearm. Fenris had his own burning need for vengeance, this bright and overpowering thing within him, one that blinded him to everything else and made his entire world spin around it. One that Anders liked to poke at at all times, much like Fenris poked him in all his sore spots regarding mages and templars.

But Danarius was a person. He had a name. This was what Fenris was feeling the strongest about, and where he was at his most defenceless.

"I do not recall anything specific, but when he made me sleep close to him…"

Fenris trailed off. He rarely did so, and now it had been twice in a row.

The hammer had struck again. Anders felt his eyes become two thin slits through which shone white light, and he felt them glow for one rare time as he struggled with the spirit within that wanted to burst forth to acknowledge the unspoken admission, the sudden realization of the depth of the abuse committed by a mage slaver.

"I'd never — **This is**—I…"

The light went out, the growl in his throat subsided, the spirit became dull again, and Anders's muscles slacked all at once. He was consciously choosing to submit, if only to calm the spirit who could only make things worse.

"For all it's worth, which is seemingly close to _nothing_ , it was not like that. It was nothing like that. Not… Let me go. _Please_."

Fenris dropped the grip on the mage's arm as if the touch had suddenly burned him. It was enough to send the blond man on a race to catch up with all the things he had been unable to shout in that fantasy.

" _You_were pretty much controlling everything," Anders pointed a finger at the elf, letting free the words begging to get out his system. "I couldn't do a thing. I could neither speak nor move. So drop the accusations and just.. Just shut up! This was all your fault! You just —"

Anders realized it was not exactly obvious what had happened, though he now had a pretty good idea of what Danarius might have done to Fenris. And not to please the elf, but to please himself. This was madness, and it angered him that such a disturbing thing could happen, had happened and that he had to be the one being judged because of a single, filthy slave owner. Against his good judgement, the mage kept on babbling away his frustrations, barely conscious that he was stabbing the elf repeatedly with his finger.

"You made me beg. You kept me on the edge until I thought I would just never get anything, and then when you actually… When I… I woke up and… I was bloody hard as if it were not over yet! You haven't…"

He had a point to make too, and to the Void with pretence and that stupid dream. He reached down into his pants and started stroking himself, and Fenris's reaction to this blatant gesture was enough to add a smile to his face, and the urge to taunt was undeniably there.

"I'm just finishing what you st —"

Fenris growled and pounced on Anders like a madman, pulling and twisting the mage's arms above his head to stop the provocation.

"Let me go! Why are you —"

"I think you need to shut up now."

"What? No! Ow!" Fenris dropped his face close to Anders, his breath tickling his skin once more , and he heard a faint purr coming from the elf's throat, and it was suddenly not altogether unpleasant to be held like this.

"So there is a reason you are always acting like this. Shocking."

"There is _not_! Is it so hard to wrap your mind around the idea that I just hate you?"

"I guess I will have to figure out what I did to you there. It should not be too difficult, if I actually… Dreamt it."

"Fenris!" Anders warned with a hiss, but he suddenly understood it was no use to argue when a hand reached down to his bulge and rubbed it, the faint tickling sensation of lyrium sparking through the fabric.

"You would not dare!"

Yet the thought that this would not be enough to make him climax made him buck up to lean into that pressure, and he realized Fenris knew. He had that smirk now. The annoying one. The one that was worth it, because there was so much more behind it, not simply judgement and arrogance, but also a wild idea. Fenris and something wild. The elf pushed him harder against the rock.

Fenris _knew_ .


End file.
